


Getting His Tongue Around Malfoy

by salixbabylon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-02
Updated: 2006-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salixbabylon/pseuds/salixbabylon
Summary: Harry has trouble getting his tongue around certain words, but he knows what flavors he likes.  AU, Post-War, Post-Hogwards, First-time, PWP





	Getting His Tongue Around Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my wonderful [bitofaspaz](http://bitofaspaz.livejournal.com/), who got me addicted *again*. Hope this gives you a smile. *smoooch*
> 
> Thank yous: To [**miladyhawke**](http://miladyhawke.livejournal.com/) and [**misspince**](http://misspince.livejournal.com/) who graciously agreed to beta at the last minute.

The walk back to the castle from Hogsmede seemed longer than he'd remembered it. It had only been two years since he and Ron had last trudged up the path, so clearly he'd had a bit more Firewhisky than he'd thought.

The second annual celebration of the Undeniable, True, and Thorough Death of That Bastard Voldemort had ended with a depressingly long reading of the names of the Fallen, and when Ron had noticed, he'd rallied the troops and suggested they adjourn to the Three Broomsticks until they were so pissed they couldn't Apparate. Being the middle of summer, Hogwarts had been turned into a hostel of sorts, to house any visitors to the celebration who wanted to stay a while. The final battle had taken place on the school grounds itself, and the main shrine had been built on the stump of the Whomping Willow. The enchanted tree had done its part by whomping several Death Eaters before being _Incendioed_ by Lucius Malfoy.

A figure caught up to them as they stopped for yet another rest. Hermione, Neville, and Luna had left much earlier, tired of the boys' antics as they played a game of thinking up obnoxious nicknames for Voldemort. Harry and Ron had finally called it quits when Harry fell off his stool, laughing at Ron's nonsensical contribution of You Know Who Stinks.

Where was he? Ah yes; a figure. Looming out of the dark, white hair gleaming in the moonlight, Harry thought, impressed with his loquaciousness. No need to go for his wand, then, the logical part of his mind put in.

"Potter. Weasel."

"Ferret," Ron tried to sneer.

"Mal-floy... Mal-fal-oy... Maf-loy..." Harry struggled, then trailed off into giggles.

"Nice to see you're as on top of your game as usual, Potter," Malfoy sneered, successfully.

"We've been _drinking_ , idiot," Harry explained, waving his arms expansively and almost falling over. Ron steadied him and they swayed together for a moment.

"And here I'd presumed that stench was your cologne," grinned Malfoy, pleased that the two were offering him such easy targets.

"Shut up, _Draco_ ," Harry said, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Malfoy in a gesture that would have been much more threatening if he hadn't been holding onto the pointy end.

Malfoy laughed, and almost against his will, Ron joined in. Harry was puzzled by this betrayal for a moment, then figured out the joke and began to chuckle as well.

"Oops."

"Nice one, Harry," Ron said, catching his breath.

"You are the most pathetic drunk I have ever seen," Malfoy drawled.

"Oh, like you're any better, you blond ponce," Harry grumbled.

One elegant brow arched. "Of course I am. Better than you in all respects. In better control. Better dressed. And far, far better groomed," he concluded, nose wrinkling.

It was bloody annoying how beautiful Malfoy was when he was being a condescending prat. Harry gave him a two-fingered salute. "Why don't you get your pretty little arse out of here?"

Ron made a face, that one where both his eyes got big and his mouth turned down, in reaction to a surprise and an unpleasant one at that. Pop-quizzes from Snape, for example. "Harry, maybe you should just-–"

"Think my arse is pretty, do you?" Malfoy preened. "Did it take a whole bottle of spirits to get you to notice that?"

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck _you_ , Potter," Malfoy grinned, with an emphasis that confused Harry for a moment until he figured it out.

Harry shrugged. "Ok, so long as there's fucking," he nodded, happy to have sorted that out.

"That's it. Harry, mate, you're on your own. I told you this would happen eventually," Ron grumbled. Pulling out his wand, he cast a quick _Sobrietus_ on himself and then Apparated back to his house.

Excellent! With Ron gone and before Malfoy could say anything else annoying, Harry grabbed him by the tie and reeled him in for a wet kiss. On the plus side, kissing Malfoy seemed to sober him up a bit, and the kiss improved as it went on, lips meeting with alternating pressure, moisture reduced to an acceptable level, tongues more coordinated and exploring in a casual way that was quickly turning to hunger.

Harry couldn't help moaning, which broke them apart. Also, he'd been standing on Malfoy's foot and apparently that wasn't making Malfoy moan in a good way.

"Gods, Potter, you're a disaster."

Harry licked his lips, ignoring Malfoy's insults, a skill he had been forced to develop sometime during the War. "You taste like expensive tooth powder," he said, internal censor gone for the night.

It was a nice flavor. Firewhisky and the poncy nettle wine Draco liked and tooth powder and something that must have been Malfoy himself.

Malfoy flavor, Harry thought, nodding to himself. He suddenly wanted to lick the prat everywhere and see what he tasted like all over, every curve and crevice. Perhaps not _suddenly_ – it had been at least three years since he'd first wanted to taste Draco, after all.

Draco smirked. "Of course I taste like something expensive, Potter. I'm shocked you recognize it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?"

"Such a foul mouth," Draco laughed. "Do I need to do a sobering charm on you?"

"No, your delightful wit is sobering enough."

They stood and glared at each other for a moment. Harry sighed. Snogging was better. So he pulled Draco back in for another go, this time carefully avoiding his feet. And there it was again, that flavor. Draco tasted better than anyone Harry had ever snogged, which was a weird thing to notice about a bloke, but Harry wasn't your typical wizard. He noticed things like flavors, liked them simple and straightforward, not too sweet, not too salty, and Draco was perfect, with just a little bit of spice thrown in. And it wasn't just the clove flavoring in the tooth-powder either.

Plus, it was one hell of a snog, if Harry did say so himself. Which he could, because Draco was a bit more in charge of it than he was, so it wasn't immodest to say at all. Somehow Malfoy had become Draco because Harry's tongue couldn't say _Malfoy_ without getting too many overzealous letters in there, but he could get his tongue around _Draco_ , and his tongue around _Draco's,_ just fine.

Ok, maybe he wasn't sobering up at all. In fact, Harry wondered with the tiny aside-bit of his brain if he wasn't somehow becoming _more_ drunk kissing Draco.

Oh right - arousal will do that to a bloke. He remembered now.

"Are you certain you're sober enough to know what you're doing?" Draco asked, making a face, in apparent response to Harry's dazed expression.

Harry tried to pull it together enough to do some thinking of his own for a moment. Something was not right with the situation. He was fine, so it had to be Draco. Must be the upcoming potential shag. Damnit, he wasn't having second thoughts, was he?

He cleared his throat. "So... Is this something you don't... _want_?" Harry asked, tentatively.

Draco twisted his mouth, somehow conveying that Harry was the stupidest person he'd ever met. "What are you on about, Potter?"

"Fucking."

Draco looked at him. "Yes?"

"Do. You. Want. To. Fuck," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Smooth, Scarhead. The point of a pickup line is subtlety, you know."

It was Harry's turn to make a face. "I've know you for how bloody long? Do you want to fuck or not?"

Draco shook his head in disgust. "Yes, fine. Anything to end this stupid conversation."

"Well, don't let me put you out," Harry grumbled defensively.

"Oh come here, idiot." Draco grabbed him by the front of his clothes and pulled him forward until their lips met roughly.

Draco was a shockingly good kisser, Harry thought. Coordinated and nicely flavored and forceful and demanding. Mostly the coordinated bit was impressive, as that was beyond Harry's abilities at the moment. All he could do was stand there and let himself be devoured, holding onto Draco's shoulders to keep himself upright.

Once his mouth was released so they could breathe, he added moaning to the short list of things he was capable of at the moment, although standing was beginning to prove difficult as Draco nuzzled and nipped along his jaw to his ear and throat. His knees went suddenly watery when he felt teeth bite into the skin just below his earlobe.

"Enough." Harry pulled himself away and tried to catch his breath. Draco gave him a satisfied smirk and licked his lips. Harry didn't care; he just wanted to see Draco naked. Now. His hands reached for the buttons of Draco's robes, fumbling with lust and other intoxicants and not accomplishing much before he was shoved away.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"

"Taking off your clothes."

"Out here? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Shut up, Ferret-Face. What's wrong with out here?" Harry looked around – it was a fairly warm summer night, and no one was around, given that it was close to two in the morning. They were about midway between the village and the castle, and out of sight of both.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Merlin. Of all the impatient Gryffindors in all the entire fucking British Isles..."

"Oh, would it offend your delicate sensibilities to fuck outside?"

"No just... Come here," Draco sighed irritably. Grabbing Harry by the chest of his robes again, he marched them a bit away from the main path, pulling out his wand. He cast a quick cushioning charm on the ground, then turned and looked pointedly at Harry. "Give me your robes."

Harry thought for a moment, then shrugged and pulled them over his head. Draco took them from him, laid them neatly on the ground, and muttered a growth charm until they were an adequate size for a ground-cover.

Harry scowled. "Why didn't you just use your own robes?"

Draco looked at him. " _My_ robes? Please. Do you even know how much my robes _cost_?"

"Fine." Things went better when Malfoy wasn't talking, Harry thought. He pressed their bodies together, stilling that sharp tongue with his own. Draco's body felt brilliant against him, pressing back in all the right ways, the erection digging into his groin betraying the blond's standoffishness.

A few short kisses later, Harry decided it was time to start moving things along. Again he started to tug at Draco's clothes, but instead found himself being rapidly divested of his own. Draco made quick work of his t-shirt, jeans, shoes and socks, and after a moment of leering at his distended pants, removed them as well. Harry was sure it had to be Draco's eyes, rather than the night air, that made him shiver. With Draco still fully clothed, he felt more naked than he could remember feeling in previous encounters.

Or maybe it was just that it was Malfoy.

Deciding it was his turn now, Harry knelt and pushed up Draco's robes. His lips trailed up the pale legs in the wake of his hands. Encountering only naked flesh, his hands went higher. And higher. And still failed to find any clothing under the robes. Not even pants, he realized, feeling only unobstructed smooth skin all the way up to the hard curve of a hipbone.

"Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged. "That would be the other reason we used your robes."

"Do you always go starkers under your robes?"

He received an imperious look. "Of course, Potter. Everyone does except Muggle-borns and heathens."

Harry rolled his eyes but decided not to get into it. "Whatever." He pulled Draco down with him and finally got the robe in question out of the way until they were both, blissfully, naked. Together.

Very much together as they rolled and pressed against each other, bare white skin luminescent in the moonlight. Harry's glasses were knocked askew and then removed to a safer location as Draco located his wand for later.

All that smooth skin made Harry's mouth water, wanting to taste and lick every inch. He pushed Draco onto his back rather forcefully in his eagerness. Draco looked at him, then pushed back until Harry was on the bottom.

Not one to ever go down easily, Harry pushed back, then realized he _wanted_ to be on the bottom and why was he resisting anyway? Unfortunately Draco seemed to have similar thoughts (or was just being obstinate) and fought being rolled over onto the top. Harry was stronger, however, and won.

Draco looked down at him, clearly exasperated. "Don't tell me you're a bottom, Potter."

Harry nodded.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll top, but you have to suck me a bit first."

Harry rolled his eyes. As if he didn't want to suck Malfoy's cock anyway. "Fine. I should have guessed you’d be a big nelly bottom."

Draco glared. "What does that say about you, then?"

"I'm drunk," Harry pointed out. "I don't have enough coordination to top right now."

"Well then. Get to it, Potter."

Harry glared for a moment, then slithered down and pushed Draco up until he was at eye-level with his cock. Not wasting time, he stuck out his tongue and gave it a lick. He let the flavor roll around on his tongue for a moment, savory and sharp, before going back for more. He sucked, pressing his tongue down the length firmly, one hand wrapped around the base, the other steadying Draco's hip. The audible results were very rewarding, he thought, as well as the flavor itself. Draco seemed to have abandoned all pretense at not being turned on and was struggling against Harry's grip, trying to thrust into his mouth.

A few moments of that and Harry pushed him away. "Enough. Fuck me, Draco. Now."

Draco looked argumentative for a moment; Harry really was quite talented with his tongue. Went along with liking how things tasted, he knew, but it was something he'd always been rather smug about doing well. He shoved Malfoy off of him, turned, and got on all fours.

"Well?" he asked over his shoulder.

A quick _Lubricus_ later and Draco was sliding two cold, gooey fingers into his arse. Harry pushed back eagerly, ready and aching.

"Which part of 'now' did you misunderstand, Draco?" he growled.

Draco growled back, an amusingly poncy sound, Harry thought, before the hard cock pushing into him obliterated any capacity for thinking.

It was a quick and dirty fuck, out there under the stars. Draco's fingernails were pinching into Harry's hipbones as he thrust in hard and deep, a fast pace from the beginning. It was perfect, though, being used like this, something raw and immediate about it. The need of Circe-knew-how-many years wouldn't allow for anything less than a good hard _fuck_ , the burn of unresolved sexual tension finally being quenched by the delicious burning in Harry's arse.

Not surprisingly, Draco was good. He set a fast but consistent rhythm, and while he was obviously paying the most attention to his own desires, he unerringly stroked over all the best places inside Harry. Even his hand snaking around Harry's hip to start stroking was timed just right as their rhythm became erratic and Harry's orgasm ripped through him.

He had no idea how much longer Draco held on, although once Harry came down from his climax, his head did start to clear up a bit. All he knew was that he was lying face-down on his robes with a sticky puddle under his belly and Draco panting and heaving on top of him in a most satisfying way.

Harry wriggled until Draco took the hint and moved off of him.

"Fuck, Potter. We should have done that ages ago."

Chuckling, Harry shoved Draco over to sprawl out more, their sweat cooling in the night air. "You just fucked me, Malfoy, I think you can at least call me 'Harry.'"

"Hm. Perhaps I'll allow you to call me 'Draco,' git."

"Just when I'd finally gotten my tongue around 'Malfoy' again," Harry laughed. Draco elbowed him and he laughed more.

They tussled a bit and one thing seemed to be leading to a predictable other when they heard the distinct "pop" of an Apparation.

An unsurprised voice called out, "Harry, I knew you wouldn't even make it back to the castle, you randy git. It's almost sunrise and if you don't want everyone in the world to get an eyeful of the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Shag-the-Ferret, you might want to go some place a bit less public. You're still in view of the main path." This informative announcement was followed by another "pop" as Ron left.

"Well," Harry said, getting to his feet. "Much as I love my adoring public, I'd rather go somewhere and spend the day licking you all over. What do you say?"

"I'd say your pickup lines still need some work," Draco smirked, "but I'm willing to offer myself up to your palate."

"Excellent. My flat then," Harry said, as they stood and started to clean themselves up. Finally, he'd gotten his tongue on the delicacy known as Draco Malfoy and he couldn't wait to see how the rest of him tasted.


End file.
